Fallen Star
by pineapplefan
Summary: Eyeball Chambers wasn't looking to change. But when he meets and finds a friend in Denny Lachance, his entire perspective of the world gets turned upside down. Not slash. Rated T for swearing and mild drug use.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hi everyone. Just a quick note: Although I have read the book adaptation of _Stand By Me_ (and loved it), I am writing this story solely based on the information we receive in the movie. By doing this, it allows me to be more creative with back-stories and characterization. That being said, there will be some things in this story that are inconsistent with the book. For example, in the book, Eyeball drops out of school in the 10th grade. In this story he is still in school. Also, in the book Denny is portrayed as distant from Gordie, but I will be portraying him more like how he was in the movie (a good brother, smart, kind, etc.). I think that's all you need to know for now! Thank you for reading!

* * *

My walk to school on the first of March was a rough one. For many reasons. For starters, it was snowing. In _March_, for cryin' out loud. Leave it to Castle Rock to pull a fast one on you like that. It wasn't snowing quite enough for school to shut down, but believe me; it was snowing enough to make you curse Mother Nature.

Secondly, I'd woken up feeling like I'd been run over by a truck. I had the worst headache of my life and my entire body ached. But I dragged my hind parts out of bed anyway because I'd rather be sick and miserable at school than sick and miserable at home with my belligerent father. He worked night shifts at the tire manufacturing company based right outside of Castle Rock, so he was always home during the day.

But the most binding reason that I went to school that day was because of my geometry teacher, Mr. Bates. He caught me cheating last week on his test and threatened me with everything under the sun. He said he could even keep me from graduating if he wanted to.

Luckily, the guy can't stand me. None of the teachers can and I think it's a general consensus that they just want me out of the place. I've been held back two years already as it is. So Bates cut a deal with me. In order to graduate, I have to stay after school three times a week and work with a geometry tutor. And then at the end of the semester I have to take a test, he'll be watching me closely he says, and if I get a B or better, he'll pass me.

Insanely, I agreed to this deal. Mainly because I didn't have any other choice. I was just glad I wasn't facing suspension. When my kid brother, Christopher, stole the milk money at his school, he got a three-day vacation and my dad lost it. Chris suffered a broken nose, a broken arm, and he won an overnight stay at the hospital. If Pops heard I didn't graduate because I cheated on some dumb test, I might never see the light of day again. It's funny how the old man doesn't have any morals of his own, but the second he gets wind of us doing something wrong, he'll smack us down. If you ask me, he just likes an excuse – any excuse – to knock us senseless. Yeah, it's fucking sidesplitting.

Anyway, today was the day that I started the "tutor sessions." If I missed the first day, Bates would have my throat. There was a 0% chance that he'd believe I was actually sick. So I took a bunch of Advil, braved the cursed snow, and found myself struggling to stay awake throughout all of my classes.

* * *

By lunchtime all I wanted to do was curl up in the fetal position and die. I'm not exaggerating either. I didn't even have enough energy to bully freshmen for their lunch money. I just went straight to the corner lunch table and collapsed into a seat. I'm pretty sure the table hadn't been wiped off in approximately… ever… but I didn't care. I put my head down on that grimy surface and covered by head with my arms to block out the light. Advil hadn't done squat.

I'd only had about three minutes of peace when goddamn Charlie Hogan knocked on the top of my head and dropped his lunch tray onto the table. "Eyeball, look alive."

I groaned and sat up. "Impossible."

Charlie was the only other guy from our gang that hadn't dropped out of school. He was graduating this year too because he hadn't been held back like me. He was the youngest of our gang and probably the smartest too. That being said, he'd never seen anything higher than a C in his life, but at least he got them consistently.

"Man, you look like shit," Charlie stated bluntly. He took a big bite out of his meatloaf and with his mouth full he asked, "You hung over or somethin'?"

_I wish_, I thought. Even though hangovers were almost as awful as I felt right now, at least when I was hung over I knew I'd brought it upon myself. But this, what the hell did I do to deserve this? "No, it's a migraine or somethin'." I crinkled up my nose as the smell from Charlie's unsightly meatloaf finally reached my nostrils. I pushed his tray farther away. "Keep that shit away from me. It's gonna make me hurl."

* * *

When the bell rang for my last class, I was relieved. Just two more hours. Two more hours and then I could crash at Ace's and sleep the rest of the day. Nothing sounded better than curling up in a bed. Even if it was Ace's old cot where you could feel every damn lump and spring. I just wanted a bed. Any bed would do.

Unfortunately, my last class was geometry. That meant I'd spend one hour in class and then another hour after school with whatever suck-up nerd Bates stuck me with. That much geometry at once should be illegal. I couldn't have been more thrilled.

Anyway, on my way to Bates' class, I got really dizzy. So dizzy that I had to take a detour into the men's restroom. I told the freshman who was washing his hands at the sink to beat it. I wanted to be able to vomit in peace if it came to that. He made a squeaking sound and scurried out of the room. I swear, people at this school are so afraid of me. It's great.

I closed myself into the last stall and sunk down onto the floor. _This migraine is really kicking my ass_, I thought to myself as a wave of nausea washed over me. I hoisted myself up over the edge of the toilet bowl and waited. I knew it was coming and I just wanted to get it over with. I could feel myself starting to sweat and my saliva getting thick. The room was spinning all around me and my stomach couldn't take much more. Before I knew it, I was expelling everything I'd eaten the past couple of days into the bowl before me.

It took me a while to get a hold of my bearings after heaving my guts out for so long. But when I did, I realized, much to my relief, that my head felt a thousand times better and everything had stopped spinning. The tradeoff was that I felt super weak and even a little bit shaky.

Knowing I was already about 15 minutes late to class, I knew I couldn't waste any more time in the bathroom. Reluctantly, I pulled myself up and used most of my remaining energy to walk to the geometry classroom.

I arrive late to class a lot, so I'm used to having everybody's eyes on me when I enter the room. But today I was a little more self-conscious. I knew I looked like hell the second I stepped into the classroom because whispers swept over the crowd. I just kept my head down and went straight to my assigned seat in the front of the classroom.

"So nice of you to join us, Mr. Chambers," Bates said flatly, without even turning around from the chalkboard.

I couldn't think of a smart-ass reply so I just sunk down lower in my seat and stared at my desk until class was over.

* * *

Finally, it was just me and Bates left in the classroom. I was really fighting falling asleep at this point. Bates was erasing the chalkboard. When he was finished, he turned around to face me.

"You know Chambers, coming late to class isn't part of the deal. That'll be unacceptable from here on out, you understand me?"

I would've explained to him why I was late if I thought it would do me any good. But I knew it wouldn't and I wasn't up for fighting any losing battles today. So I just nodded and mumbled a scornful "yessir."

"Good," Bates said firmly. He leaned up against the front of his desk and folded his arms across his chest. "Now, when your tutor gets here, you are to treat him with respect. Is that understood?"

I rolled my eyes, but nodded.

Mr. Bates checked his watch. "He should be here any minute now." And then, as if I cared, he started talking up my oh-so-highly anticipated tutor. "He's taking calculus this year but did very well in geometry last year. He offered to tutor you because he needs some volunteer hours to apply to some academic programs…"

And that's when I zoned out.

"Oh look, here he is now," Bates said after what seemed like ages of rambling. He was beaming at the classroom door.

I followed his gaze to the door and groaned inwardly. The fuckin' town hero of Castle Rock, Denny Lachance, stood in the doorway.

As if this day couldn't get any worse.


	2. Chapter 2

In Castle Rock, Dennis Lachance was basically the equivalent to Jesus. Everybody knew who he was and they _worshipped _him. He was the town stud, the man of the hour, _every _hour. It was sickening. Just because he was a 4.0 student and got a full-ride to Alabama to play football, the town thought they had to hold him up on a pedestal. I think people were just shocked that anything good could actually come out of this godforsaken town. But it was a total nag hearing Lachance's name every time you turned around.

And here I was, stuck spending time with this high-and-mighty asshole for the next two and a half months. That thought certainly didn't help the nausea I was already experiencing.

"Dennis, thank you for coming," Mr. Bates said, reaching out to shake Denny's hand.

"Not a problem, sir," Denny answered, and then he grinned at me. I just glared at him.

"I'm going to let you two get started. I'll be down the hall in my office if you need anything." Then, almost as if I wasn't sitting there, he said, "Just do your best with this one. It'll be like teaching a chimp."

That would've stung if I gave two shits about what Perry Bates thought of me.

Denny laughed nervously until Mr. Bates disappeared out the door. Then he pushed the door shut behind him and stopped laughing at once. He turned around to face me. "Geez, what a dick," he said. "You must really be on his bad side, huh?"

"You can say that again," I mumbled, raising my eyebrows. I was slightly caught off-guard from hearing the school's most famous teacher's pet call Mr. Bates a "dick." It was true, I just never thought I'd hear it from the golden boy.

Denny let out a deep breath and flopped down into the desk next to mine. Then he shrugged off his letterman jacket and turned the desk to the left so he was facing me. "I'm Denny Lachance," he said, extending his arm to shake hands.

I folded my arms across my chest. "I know. I'm—"

"Richard Chambers," Denny interrupted, before I had a chance to finish. Realizing I wasn't going to shake his hand, he pulled his arm back and dropped it by his side.

"People call me 'Eyeball,'" I told him. For as long as I could remember that had been my nickname. I had a lazy eye, my left one. I used to hate it when I was younger because kids would tease me for it. But since then, it's sort of become my trademark.

"I like Richard better," Denny said simply as he started leafing through the geometry book he brought. When he landed on a page about congruent triangles, he let out a sigh. "I guess we ought to get started. Tell me what you know about congruency."

"I don't know squat," I told him honestly. I was already bored.

Denny laughed. "Maybe this will be like teaching a chimp," he joked, smiling innocently at my death stare. "Look, it's not that hard." He passed the book over to me. "Two shapes are congruent if they're the same size and shape. That means their corresponding sides are the same length and their corresponding angles have the same measure."

"Okay." I couldn't even pretend to care about any of this.

Denny was studying my face carefully. "You get it?" he asked.

"Yeah, sure," I confirmed. It actually did make sense. "What's next?"

"Similarity," he answered, turning the page. "When the corresponding angles of two shapes have the same measure and the lengths of the sides are in proportion. In other words, same shape, just a different size."

That made sense too. As much as I hated to admit it, Denny was already a much better teacher than Bates could even dream about being. Fucking wonder boy to the rescue again…

It went on like this for a good half hour. Denny repeated things we'd gone over in class, but in a way I could understand them. The trouble was, I was having trouble keeping my concentration. My goddamn headache had returned.

When Denny started explaining the basics of trigonometry, I just couldn't will myself to listen anymore. My head was pounding way too hard and I had intense pain behind my eyes. I squeezed my lids shut and let my head fall into my hands. Denny continued to ramble on.

"…Rich?"

I snapped my head up at the mention of my name. It was weird being called something other than 'Eyeball' or 'Chambers.' "What?" I asked through gritted teeth. Denny was holding a pencil out to me.

"I wanted you to try this practice problem…" he said slowly, frowning as he studied my face. "Are you alright?"

"Peachy," I mumbled, grabbing the pencil from him. I looked down at the paper he'd put in front of me. I blinked a couple of times trying to focus my eyes, but it was no use. Everything was starting to spin again, and my stomach didn't like it.

I could feel Denny's eyes on me.

"Hey, uh, I'm gonna take a leak," I told him, dropping the pencil on the table as I stood up. "I-I'll be right back." Using as much energy as I could muster, I bolted out of the classroom and into the empty hallway, praying to the heavens that Denny wouldn't follow me.

Almost blindly, I found my way back into the restroom and dropped down on the floor of the nearest stall. _Round two_, I thought reluctantly as I became acquainted with the toilet bowl for the second time today.

Much to my dismay, Denny came into the bathroom once I started throwing up for the second time that day. Since I had hardly anything left in my stomach, it was just painful bile that came up. It hurt so much, but I couldn't stop heaving.

"Peachy my ass," Denny said from beyond the stall door. "You alright in there, Chambers?"

I was gagging too much to answer him, but I wanted very much to tell him to go fuck himself. _Yeah, I'm the poster of health_, I thought sarcastically.

When my stomach finally settled, I flushed the toilet and reluctantly emerged from the stall. Denny was leaning against the sink wearing his letterman jacket and holding my book bag out to me. "C'mon," he said. "I'll drive you home."

I grabbed the bag from him. "No need," I told him. The last thing I wanted was charity from Denny Lachance. "I ain't goin' home anyway."

"Then I'll drive you wherever you're goin'," he told me. "C'mon, man, you look like hell."

I sighed. I really wasn't in any condition to pass up a ride. Ace's place was a good mile and a half away.

So I succumbed and followed Denny out to his baby blue, snow-covered Coupe de Ville. Leave it to Lachance to have one of the nicest cars in town.

After Denny had brushed the snow off the car, I gave him the directions to Ace's and then rested my head up against the cool glass of the window. It felt good against my hot skin.

Denny attempted to make conversation with me during the ride. "I know your little brother," he said. "He and my brother are good friends so I see Chris around a lot. Nice kid."

"He's a fuckin' pussy," I mumbled, hoping that'd get Denny to shut up. It did and I enjoyed the rest of the car ride in peace. Why he thought I gave a crap who Christopher hung around with was beyond me.

"Well, here we are," Denny said happily as he pulled up in front of Ace's place. "No need to thank me."

"Good, 'cause I wasn't going to," I said, opening the door.

Denny chuckled. I honestly didn't see what was so funny. "I like this banter we've got going between us," he said.

"Whatever." I grabbed my bag and slammed the door shut. Then I started making my way up to Ace's sorry excuse for a house. It was more like a shack, really.

"Hey, feel better, man," Denny called after me through the open window of his car. I turned around to face him and he waved. Then he revved his engine and took off down the street.

I watched him go from Ace's porch, not wanting to admit to myself that maybe Denny Lachance wasn't so bad after all.


	3. Chapter 3

I woke up, much unpleasantly, to a wet-willy in my ear and Ace Merrill puffing a cigarette above me.

"Jesus Christ, Ace," I growled at him. I grabbed part of the bed sheet and dried my ear out. "You're a real asshole, you know that?"

"The realest," Ace said proudly. He put his cigarette out in the ashtray on the nightstand and then he threw my jeans at me. "Get up, Nancy Boy. We've got a deal to close. Why the hell are you sleeping now, anyway?"

I ignored his question and rubbed the lids of my eyes tiredly. "Ace, I thought you said you weren't gonna deal no more." Ace had been involved in some drug dealing as a side to his day job. Sometimes I'd go on deals with him as backup.

"I lied," he said simply. "Imagine that. Now get up."

But I shook my head. "No way. I ain't going with you after what happened last time. Get Vince or Billy to do it."

"God, could you be any more of a pussy?"

"I was shot!" I exclaimed.

"You were _grazed_." Ace retaliated, but I think he could tell I wasn't backing down because he let out an exasperated sigh. "You know what? Fine. I'll get fucking Billy Tessio to come with me. Fucking _pussy_." With that, Ace kicked the leg of the cot and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Okay, so maybe I was exaggerating. But the last job I went on with Ace did end up pretty badly. We'd been shot at, only because fuckin' Ace had given the guy bogus goods. In fairness, Ace didn't know, he was just the middleman, or at least that's what he told me.

Anyway, we were in a motel room and the guy was playing it off like everything was cool. But then out of nowhere, he reached into the ice bucket and pulled out a handgun. Ace dropped the bogus drugs on the ground and we bolted out of there. He shot after us, three times. He was only aiming to injure because he was only shooting at our feet, but it was scary all the same. Just as we were at the door, one of the bullets grazed my left ankle. And fuck, it hurt. But I kept running and we made it out of there. And even though I got a cool scar and a story to tell, after that night I vowed to never go on a job with Ace again.

I squinted at the alarm clock. It was already 7:00. That meant I'd been asleep for a good three and a half hours. I groaned and rolled back over, pulling the covers over my head. I decided to just stay at Ace's for the night. The only reason I ever go home is to eat – cooking is about the only thing my mother is good for – but seeing as my stomach wanted to turn itself inside out at even the thought of food, I decided to just stay put.

I could hear some of the gang's voices outside the door. Ace's place was sort of our main hangout. Normally, I'm a pretty light sleeper and trying to fall asleep with any sort of noise gives me trouble. Unless I'm drunk or hung over that is. But tonight I was so exhausted that the noise didn't bother me at all. Before I knew it, I had drifted back to sleep.

* * *

When I woke up next, it was quiet. And very dark. I stuck my arm out, fumbling around for the lamp on the nightstand beside me. When I found it, I flipped on the switch and winced when the light poured in around me.

Once my eyes had adjusted, I looked at the clock to see what time it was. 3:42 am. I ran my hands through my hair, trying to get a grasp on how I felt. I still had a dull headache, but my nausea had subsided.

I groaned and rubbed my temples. I still felt pretty weak and I was incredibly parched. I didn't feel like moving, but I decided to man up and go get a glass of water from the kitchen (if you can call it that).

Ace's "kitchen" consisted of an icebox, a wobbly table, a sink, and a stove that only had one working burner. Very slowly and with more effort than I'd like to admit, I made my way out to that sorry excuse for a kitchen. But on my way there, I saw something that made what was left of my stomach drop into my toes.

Ace was sitting on the couch, surrounded by empty beer bottles. Flash-forward a couple of months, and that would be a pretty standard sight. But up until this point in my life, I had never seen Ace touch a single drop of alcohol. He always had a cigarette in his mouth, but he never joined in when the rest of us guys drank. And that was, well, pretty much all the time.

I never knew why Ace didn't drink. To be honest, I never really gave it any thought, and the rest of the gang was too intimidated by him to question it. I always just assumed he was enough of a hard ass without the liquid stuff to go along with it.

So anyway, as you can probably imagine, seeing Ace in this state at 3:42 in the morning caught me by surprise. And the feeling in my gut told me that something was very wrong.

I approached him carefully, because I don't even know what he's capable of when he's sober. He was staring straight forward, a half-empty bottle of beer in his hand. The expression on his face was unreadable.

I sat down beside him, swallowing hard. He didn't acknowledge me at all. He just brought the bottle up to his mouth and took another swig.

"You're gonna feel like hell tomorrow, you know that, right?" I asked softly.

"Sort of what I'm going for," he answered curtly.

I cleared my throat gruffly and then hesitated. "Ace, what's goin' on?" I asked finally.

Ace reached forward and grabbed a piece of paper sitting on top of the crate he used as a coffee table. He thrust it into my hands and took another gulp of beer.

"What's this?" I looked down at what appeared to be hospital charges for a Ms. Florence Merrill. That was Ace's grandmother, the woman who'd raised him. Based on all the tests and treatments she'd undergone, she wasn't doing very well. "Ace…" I wasn't sure what to say. Ace's grandmother was about the only person he gave a shit about.

He snatched the paper back from me, and sunk lower into the couch, reading it over.

I ran my hands through my hair. "This is why you're dealing again?"

He nodded and drunkenly reached for another beer. But I grabbed it before he could.

"You've had enough, man," I told him. For some reason I was feeling especially brave this morning.

Ace let out an emotionless laugh as if to say _are you serious?_ "Give that to me," he said firmly. "I'll fucking kill you, Chambers. You're already on my shit list for bailing on me tonight."

I sighed, and reluctantly handed the bottle over. "You really shouldn't…"

Ace just glared at me. He continued to glare as he popped the bottle cap off and slowly brought the bottle to his mouth. But once he reached his mouth, he paused, and then out of nowhere, he chucked the bottle at the front door and it shattered into dozens of pieces, and beer exploded everywhere.

I practically jumped out of skin. "For cryin' out loud, Ace!" I exclaimed.

"There. I didn't drink it," Ace said, his voice jaded. "Will you leave me the hell alone now?"

I swallowed hard and stood up. "Yeah, sure, you fuckin' psycho," I mumbled under my breath. I returned to the spare room, but not before I'd gotten what I'd come out for in the first place.

Before closing the door, I took one last look at Ace sitting on the couch. His elbows were on his knees and his head was in his hands. I wasn't used to seeing Ace Merrill like that, and I didn't like it. It was scary.

I finished my glass of water and got back into bed. But as much as I tried, I wasn't able to fall back asleep. Instead, I just stared at the ceiling and waited for morning.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Hi everyone! This chapter will shed some light on Ace's background. Also, just a heads up that this month is super busy for me. I will try to post as often as I can, but fanfiction is sort of on the back burner this month! Thank you to those of you that have reviewed. I really appreciate the support!

* * *

I met Ace Merrill during the middle of my 5th grade year. He was the new kid in town after having moved here from Chicago to live with his grandmother. He was a real quiet kid, with an intimidating look about him, and most of the kids were scared of him. Besides, there were all sorts of nasty rumors about his family and why he'd come here, but nobody knew what was true and what wasn't.

_"His parents died in a car crash because his dad was driving drunk." "His mom went to jail for prostitution and his dad's in the nuthouse." "His dad's a fraud and his mom's a whore." _Those were just some of the rumors that were floating around. I think the town pitied him, but they still treated him like he was some sort of vermin.

Ace and I sort of became friends by default. I didn't have many friends of my own, considering I was pretty scrawny and my lazy eye was still the object of ridicule among my peers. The only friend I had was Jack Mudgett, the kid with the overbite. Ace didn't have any friends either, and he sort of started following us around. He talked weird, being from Chicago and all, but he was cool enough. He was the only kid I knew who smoked at age 11 after all. And he could cuss real good too.

I didn't find out the truth about Ace's parents until almost a year later, and I'm pretty sure I'm one of the few people in Castle Rock who know the truth to this day.

* * *

**October 19****th****, 1951**

It was a Friday. School had just let out and Ace and I were on our way home. He had been pretty quiet that day, but I didn't think much of it.

Up ahead in the distance, I could see a group of five or six kids in the grade above us hanging out in front of Quidaciolo's. I recognized one of the boys as Carl Merker, the mayor's son. I hated that guy. He was nothing but a high and mighty snob who got his jollies from making snide comments. There was no way we were getting by him and his friends without getting badgered.

"Oh look, it's Chambers and the orphan boy," Carl announced to his friends as we approached them.

I was planning on just ignoring them as we walked by, but Ace had other ideas. He stopped in his tracks and squared his shoulders to face Merker. I always knew the word "orphan" irked him.

"You _are _an orphan, aren't you?" Carl sneered. "Or did your parents just not want you anymore?"

"Hey, Ace, just ignore 'em," I said, trying to push him along. But he didn't budge. There was fire in his eyes. He looked hurt, but above that, he looked daunting. It was the first time I realized that Ace was dangerous.

"Oh, did I hurt your feelings?" Carl asked in a mocking tone. The snickers of his friends were egging him on. "Too bad you can't run home and tell Mommy and Daddy about it."

And that did it. Ace went berserk. He grabbed Merker by the collar of his shirt and threw him to the ground. I could tell he was seeing red because he absolutely pounded the guy. He threw punch after punch without the slightest hint of stopping.

"Ace, stop!" I yelled, trying to pull him off of Merker. "He's had enough." Beating up the mayor's son wasn't the smartest of all ideas. The girls of Merker's group were shrieking as Carl's face became more and more bloodied. It wasn't until the rest of the guys from Merker's group helped me pull Ace up that we got him to stop.

I held him back while Carl's friends dropped down beside him. "What the hell's the matter with you?" one of them hissed at Ace.

I let go of Ace, still in shock of what I'd witnessed. He was breathing heavily and tears were streaming down his face. I'd never seen him cry before. He looked down at his busted knuckles and then back at Carl, who lay moaning on the sidewalk. Then he shot a glance at me and before I knew it, he was sprinting down the street.

I remained frozen for a moment before taking off after him.

But it was perfectly clear that Ace had no intention of letting me catch up to him. I kept shouting his name, but he didn't slow. I never knew he could run so fast.

Luckily for me, I had more stamina than he did. I hadn't gotten into smoking just yet, and Ace already had a good two years on him. So when he started to get overly winded, I took it as my opportunity to catch up to him.

I grabbed him by the arm and we came to a sudden halt by the library.

"Get the fuck off of me, Eyeball," Ace growled. It was Ace himself who'd come up with my nickname. He tried to pull his arm out of my grasp, but I had a firm hold. His face was flushed red, his eyes puffy from crying.

"No way, man. Not until you tell me what was with you back there. It was like you snapped or something."

"Yeah so maybe I did," Ace said angrily, wiping the tears from his cheeks with his free arm. "It felt good, too."

I let go of Ace's arm, trusting that he wouldn't take off running again. "I don't get it, man. You always just ignore kids when they start in on your parents. But not today."

"Yeah, well today ain't any old day." He jammed his hands in his pockets and looked away from me. His breathing was coming in short, hiccupping gasps.

It suddenly dawned on me what Ace was talking about. Today was the anniversary of whatever happened in the Merrill household that caused him to move to this lackluster town. I bit down on my lip. Ace had never breathed a word about his parents, and I had never asked him. But that didn't mean I wasn't curious. "Do you want to talk about it?" I asked him softly.

More tears spilled out of Ace's eyes and he shook his head adamantly. "I don't even want to _think_ about it," he said through gritted teeth. He swiped the tears away quickly. "Look, I need to get home."

"Ace—"

"I'll see you later."

He continued his walk home and I let him go, mainly because I didn't know what else to say.

That was the last time anyone messed with Ace Merrill, though.

* * *

**October 22****nd****, 1951  
**  
That following Monday, Ace was waiting for me outside of the school. I hadn't seen or heard from him all weekend. I figured he just needed some space.

"Hey man," I greeted him as I started to head inside. But Ace grabbed my arm.

"We're not goin' to school today," he said.

"We're ditching?" I was always up for skipping out on school. He and I did it on the regular.

Ace nodded. I was trying to read the expression on his face, but it's always hard with him. It's like his features are made out of stone. He started walking in the opposite direction, and I followed.

We went to the park and sat down under a tree. Neither one of us spoke for a good chunk of time. I noticed vaguely that the leaves had changed color. "What's goin' on, Ace?" I asked finally.

Ace reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a folded newspaper clipping and dropped it in my lap. Ace tends to do that: he makes me read what's going on in his life instead of just telling me. It's easier than talking, I guess.

I read the title of the article: AFFAIR BRINGS BLOODBATH TO LOCAL HOME

"What is this?" I asked.

"Just read it," Ace mumbled, lighting up a cigarette.

I licked my lips nervously and continued to read.

**AFFAIR BRINGS BLOODBATH TO LOCAL HOME  
Oct. 21****st****, 1950 – Chicago, IL**

**Blood was shed in Grundy County Saturday morning. Raymond and Nancy Merrill were found dead in their home on East Washington Street. City officials say it was marital dispute that went awry.**

**Nancy Merrill shot and killed her husband when she found him in bed with another woman upon returning from a night out of town. She then killed herself. The weapon used was a 7.62mm shotgun.**

**Raymond's mistress has been identified as Jean Wooden. She fled the scene after shots were fired, but has since come forward to testify.**

**The Merrill's son, an eleven-year-old boy, was out of the house when the shots rang out. It was he who found the bodies and alerted the police. Future custody of the boy is unknown.**

There was more to the article, but that was as much as I could stand to read. I swallowed hard and set the clipping down. I felt like I'd been punched in the gut. "Jesus Christ, Ace," I whispered, because my voice was ostensibly broken. "I'm so sorry…"

Ace put his cigarette out against the tree and chucked the butt as far as he could into the distance. "It's fucked up, right?" he said, his voice teetering on the edge of breaking.

All I could do was nod. I put my hand on his shoulder as an attempt to comfort him, a sensation very foreign to both of us.

"I just thought you deserved to know," Ace said hoarsely.

Tears started rolling down his cheeks. Without a second thought, I slid my arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer to me.

I remember Ace wiping away his tears and then pulling out his pack of cigarettes. He took another one for himself and then, with a shaky hand, he offered one to me. It was the first time I accepted.

We sat there, side by side, watching the leaves fall and puffing on our cigarettes. We didn't speak. We were both consumed in our own thoughts.

How could I have gone an entire year without knowing this awful truth about my friend? How had Ace held it together, while being haunted by the image of his deceased parents? How did he stand the ridicule of this godforsaken town? I couldn't begin to imagine.

I knew right then and there that Ace Merrill was the toughest person I'd ever met. And he is still the toughest person I know to this day.

We haven't spoken of his parents since.


	5. Chapter 5

I must've ended up falling asleep because I slept right through the alarm on Tuesday morning. I woke up at a little after noon. It didn't bother me that I was super late for school. I'd sort of already decided not to go. I didn't have one of my tutor sessions, so I honestly didn't feel the need to show up. And considering I still felt like shit, I didn't want to suffer miserably through school like I had the day before.

My head felt like it weighed a thousand tons as I stood up and made my way to the door. Ace was no longer on the couch, but the mess remained, when I emerged from the spare room. Beer bottles were still strewn everywhere and the busted glass from the one he'd thrown still littered the floor.

I rubbed my eyes tiredly, praying that Ace hadn't gone into work drunk off his ass. I peered into his bedroom, relieved to find him sound asleep in bed. I sat down on the couch and took a closer look at the hospital bill that was still sitting on the milk-crate-coffee-table.

From what I could tell, Ace's grandmother had spent a good amount of time in intensive care. For what, it didn't say. But it sure jacked up the bill total. There was no way Ace would be able to pay for it on his salary. He worked on a tobacco farm, hanging the leaves and doing the manual work. The pay was actually decent, but he had to cover rent for his place _and _for his grandmother's nursing home. I knew he was barely scraping by, and this hospital bill would just be adding insult to injury.

I let out a deep breath and dropped my head into my hands. No wonder Ace decided to start dealing again. He needed the money.

I had only been sitting on the couch for a couple of minutes when Norman 'Fuzzy' Brackowicz, another one of our gang, walked in the door with a gal on his arm. It was the same tramp he'd been going with for months, Trish Dordy. They were laughing about something, but stopped instantly once they saw I was there. "Chambers, what the fuck are you doing here?" Fuzzy asked, hiding Trish behind his back. He was clearly planning on having Ace's place to himself. He looked around at the mess of bottles surrounding the couch. "You plastered or somethin'?"

"Those ain't mine," I told him, pinching the bridge of my nose. "They're Ace's. He's passed out in the bedroom. So if you're lookin' to screw, I suggest you beat it out of here."

Fuzzy raised his eyebrows. "You're serious?"

"Yeah."

Brackowicz was dumber than a sack of rocks, but even he had enough sense to leave while he had the chance. "Shit," he breathed. "Trish, we gotta get outta here." He practically pushed her out the door. "I ain't itchin' to see what a hung over Ace is like. Good riddance, Chambers." And they were gone as quickly as they came.

Once they were gone, I headed for Ace's bathroom to take a shower. I felt disgusting, and frankly, I just wanted to be clean. I turned on the shower and stripped down while I waited for the water to get hot.

The shower felt really good, with the hot water rushing against my aching body. I don't know how long I stood there, but it was long enough to get over-heated. Black dots started flashing in front of my eyes and I knew it was time to get out.

I shut off the water and grabbed for my towel. My hands had gotten all wrinkly from being in the shower too long. I took it slow as I dried myself off because I was still dizzy from the heat. Not having eaten for the past 40 hours probably wasn't helping either.

I headed back to the spare room and got changed. I always have an extra set of clothes at Ace's in case I stay the night at his place. Once dressed, I headed out to the kitchen to see if Ace had anything to eat. The shower really had made me feel better, and I was willing to give eating a try.

He didn't have squat. I had to make-do with a single can of tomato soup in his cupboard. _It's a wonder that Ace is still alive_, I thought to myself. I swear the guy lived solely on cigarettes most days.

I quickly washed up a pot and used it to heat up the soup on the stove. I had just finished eating said soup, when Ace started hollering in his sleep. It wasn't nonsensical hollering either. I could understand him clearly, and it made my heart sink. He was yelling for his mum and dad.

I bolted into his room. He was all twisted up in his sheets and blankets. His shouts had dissolved into whimpers, with him repeating the word "no" over and over.

I knelt down beside him and shook his shoulder lightly. "Ace," I said softly. "Wake up, man."

His eyes flew open, and they looked panicked and scared. "What?" he breathed. He sat up slowly, clearly disoriented.

"You were dreamin'," I told him. "You alright?"

Ace brought a hand to his head and squeezed his eyes shut. His entire frame was shaking. "Yeah," he answered through gritted teeth. "What time is it?"

"A little after 1:30."

Ace cursed under his breath and tried to get out of bed, but I kept a firm grip on his shoulder that held him down. "Ace, just take it easy for a second."

But he shook his head adamantly and pushed my arm away before standing up. "I gotta go see my gran," he said hoarsely. I watched as he pulled on his jeans and grabbed a button-up shirt from his closet. But his hands were shaking so much that he couldn't even button up the shirt.

"Ace…"

"Can it, Chambers," he growled, giving up on his shirt. He went to his bureau and grabbed his pack of cigarettes off the top of it. He tried to pull one out, but ending up dropping the pack instead. All of his cigarettes spilled onto the floor.

"Goddammit," he breathed, his voice catching in his throat. He didn't pick up the cigarettes. Instead, he turned around and leaned against the bureau so he was facing away from me. I could tell he was doing everything in his power just to hold it together.

I bent down to pick up the dropped cigarettes and set them back on the bureau. "Ace, turn around, man."

He did, reluctantly, with his eyes closed. "Why are you even here, Eyeball?" he asked as I buttoned up his shirt for him.

"Wasn't feeling school today," I answered. I handed him a cigarette so he could light up and calm his nerves. "C'mon. Where are your keys?" I asked. "I'll drive you to the hospital."

* * *

By the time we got to the hospital, Ace had relaxed a bit. My plan was to go into his grandmother's room with him and make sure he kept his composure. But the doc wouldn't let me. Family only.

So Ace was on his own and I was stuck lingering in the boring-ass waiting room. To be honest, I was amazed that Ace was even functioning, albeit just barely, after all the alcohol he'd consumed the night before. If he hadn't been so shaken up, you better believe I would've given him hell for it. He was never very merciful when one of the gang was hung over.

When I got bored looking at the pathetic hospital paintings on wall, I picked up an old Life magazine and started reading. I wasn't much of a magazine reader, but this one was interesting enough to keep me entertained for a good thirty minutes. I especially enjoyed reading the jokes.

"Rich?"

Hearing my name startled me. I lifted my head up from the magazine to find none other than fucking Dennis Lachance standing over me. I groaned inwardly. "What are you doing here?"

"I volunteer here every Tuesday," Denny said simply as he plopped down into the seat beside me.

_Of course you do_, I thought scathingly. I looked back down at my magazine, trying to give Lachance the hint that I didn't want to make conversation with him. I wasn't particularly thrilled that we were sitting side-by-side on a day that I wasn't being forced to interact with him.

But he chose not to take the hint. "So why are _you_ here?" he asked.

"Came with a friend. He's visiting his grandmother," I answered shortly, not looking up.

"I take it you weren't allowed in her room?"

I shook my head. "Family only."

"Must be pretty serious then, huh?"

I shrugged. I knew it was, but Ace would kill me if he knew I was spilling his family business to Lachance. He couldn't stand the guy either.

"It's probably best you don't go near the patients, anyway, with how sick you were yesterday," Denny said wisely. I could feel his eyes on me, looking me over. "You feelin' better today?"

"Yeah." I could feel my cheeks turning red. I was still pretty embarrassed that Lachance had seen me so ill.

"That's good to hear," he said, a wide grin on his face. He opened his mouth to speak again, but I cut him off.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" I was being rude, but I didn't care. Denny was like an overexcited puppy that seemed set on us being friends. I could only tolerate so much.

Denny sighed and stood up. "Yeah, I was heading down to pediatrics when I saw you. Just thought I'd say hey."

"Hey," I said dryly.

Denny chuckled. "I can feel the love," he said sarcastically. He glanced at his watch. "You know, this time tomorrow, we'll be learning about surface area. I bet you can't wait."

I flipped him the bird as a response.

That just made him laugh again. "I'll see ya, Rich," he said. "Give your friend my best." Then he turned on his heel and headed for the stairs.


	6. Chapter 6

"Eyeball."

I snapped my head up to find Ace standing over me. I must've dozed off. The Life magazine I'd been reading had slid off my lap and onto the floor. "Hey," I said drowsily, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. "How'd it go?"

Ace shook his head dismissively. "You can take off," he said hoarsely. "Take my car."

I frowned. "What are you gonna do?"

Ace collapsed into the chair next to me. "I'm stayin' here tonight," he answered, rubbing his temples. He was no-doubt feeling the morning-after effects of all the alcohol he'd consumed. I heard him curse under his breath. "She's not doin' so good."

I swallowed hard. I had about a thousand questions, but it's near impossible to get answers out of Ace. Hell, based on the hospital bill I could tell his grandmother had been in the hospital about a week, but yesterday was the first I'd heard of it. "What's goin' on with her, anyway?"

Ace hesitated and I about blew a gasket.

"For fuck's sake, Ace, could you just give me a straight answer for once?"

Ace glared at me, but it worked. He answered my question. "Started out as a bad case of pneumonia," he said stiffly. "But her blood counts keep droppin' and she's gettin' weaker. She can't even sit up on her own. And she's confused as hell. She didn't even recognize me." Ace bit down on his lip and gazed down the hallway toward his grandmother's room. "The fuckers got me payin' an arm and a leg and they can't even tell me what's wrong with her."

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. "But they're runnin' tests, right?"

"Who the fuck knows?" Ace growled. "That's why I'm stayin'. I want some damn answers."

I rubbed my eyes tiredly. "Ace—"

"I'm fine, Eyeball," Ace said forcedly, standing up. "You ain't gotta hang around."

I could tell he wanted me to leave, so I stood up and reached into my jeans pocket. I pulled out my pack of cigarettes. "Here," I said, handing him the pack. "You need these more than I do."

And then I left.

* * *

"Richie." Chris kicked me under the table and I looked up from my plate at him. "Pop's talking to you," he whispered.

I let out a deep breath and met my father's gaze. "Eat your dinner," he said.

"I ain't hungry," I said. And I wasn't. I was feeling kind of sick again. I'd spent the last hour curled up in the bathroom, praying that the tomato soup I'd eaten earlier wouldn't make a reappearance. Fortunately, it hadn't. But I wasn't about to push it any more at dinner.

Pop pounded his fist on the table and I nearly jumped out of my skin. "Your mother prepared this nice meal for us and you're gonna eat it, goddamnit!" he shouted. Like I said, Pop picks the most arbitrary shit to go off on us for.

And I couldn't handle this shit right now. I knew it was a mistake to come home. But I had just wanted a bed. _My_ bed. "Fuck you," I said under my breath, but apparently not quietly enough.

Pop heard me and stood up. "What did you say to me, boy?"

He started undoing his belt, which prompted my mother to squeak, "Frank… don't." That's the most she does to try to stop it. And he always ignores her.

I stood up, bracing myself behind my chair, ready to throw it in my path if he came after me. Chris and my mother were watching with scared eyes.

Pop was glaring at me with so much loathing and I was glaring right back. I hated him. I hated his guts.

"C'mere," Pop growled.

"No fucking way," I said, sounding braver than I felt.

That did it. Pop started after me and I bolted down the hallway to the room I share with Christopher. Most people in this situation would take off out the door, but I was too stubborn for that. I'd already committed to staying the night at home. In _my _bed.

I tried to close the door to my room and lock it, but Pop was too close. He straight-armed the door as I tried to slam it shut. I was really in for it now.

He started with the belt. Giving me lash after lash as I curled into myself on the cold floor. It hurt. Like hell. But I always try my hardest not to shout out or cry. I don't want him to know how much he hurts me. I don't want him to have the satisfaction.

The whole time, Pop went on his usual rant. How I'm ungrateful, pathetic, a nobody. And when he was finished, he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. I was left lying on the floor, my entire body throbbing with pain, too exhausted to move.

The door creaked open moments later and Chris stepped into the room. "Jesus Christ," he breathed when he saw the state I was in.

Tears had started to roll down my cheeks and onto the floor. My fresh welts stung under the weight of my T-shirt. I was grateful when Chris squatted down in front of me and pulled the shirt off for me. He'd been there plenty of times himself. "You okay?" he asked.

I grunted and managed a nod. "Same old, same old," I mumbled. I pushed him away from me and struggled to stand up.

Chris took a seat on his bed, watching me. "He's been on a real mean streak lately," he said. "'Course you wouldn't know that," he added bitterly, folding his arms across his chest. "You're never around."

I leaned heavily against the dresser, rummaging around the top drawer for some Advil. "Can you blame me?" I asked through gritted teeth. It wasn't my fault that the kid wasn't smart enough to crash somewhere else. I tossed my head back and swallowed down a few pills.

"I don't get why you don't fight back," Chris said quietly.

That made me freeze up a bit because the truth was, I didn't know either. I was almost twenty years old and I'd been dealing with this same shit for as long as I could remember. It had only intensified over the years.

Maybe it was habit. I was used to running, used to getting beaten down. Too afraid to fight back.

Having no answer for Chris, I just mumbled, "Look who's talkin'."

Chris tilted his head at me, almost like he was sizing me up. "You know what I think?" he asked, as I got under the covers of my bed.

Knowing he'd tell me anyway, I kept my trap shut.

"I think you're nothin' but a coward."

Normally I just ignore Chris, but those words really got to me. "Yeah, well, fuck you," I muttered before pulling the covers over my head and turning on my side away from him. My stomach felt uneasy and it wasn't from being sick. What Chris said hurt a thousand times worse than what Pop had done to me, and I knew why.

It was the truth.


	7. Chapter 7

When my alarm clock rang the following morning, I opened my eyes to discover that every fiber of my body ached. I stared up at the ceiling, realizing I felt completely overwhelmed. I was upset about my father, worried about Ace, livid that I couldn't ditch school because of that damn tutor session. I felt my cheeks get hot with tears and I was disgusted with myself for being such a pussy. I just didn't want to face the day.

My stomach lurched and I grabbed for the wastebasket beside my bed. I was promptly ill, sputtering painful bile into the bin before me. "Goddammit," I breathed, pushing the bin away from me when I'd finished. I just couldn't catch a break.

I sat up slowly, trying to focus my eyes. Chris was sitting up in his bed too, watching me. "You okay?" he asked hoarsely from across the room.

I didn't answer him. But what he'd said to me the night before came washing back over me like a wave. I stood up determinedly and started getting dressed. I wasn't looking forward to putting a shirt back on over my exposed flesh. I searched for the lightest-weight shirt I could find.

"Richie, what are you doing?"

"I'm goin' to school," I answered through gritted teeth as I slipped the shirt on over my head. Every movement I made hurt.

"Are you fucking _insane_?" Chris asked, his eyes wide.

"No, I'm a fucking _coward_, remember?" I shot back, wincing as I reached down to put on my shoes. Tears continued to leak from my eyes.

That shut Chris up real good, but he kept watching me. I finished tying my shoes and then slowly made my way to the bathroom. I closed the door behind me and locked it. After taking a piss and washing my face, I forced myself to take a look in the mirror.

I barely recognized the person staring back at me. My face was paler than the moon and my lips were stark white. My eyes were red and puffy. Frankly, I looked hideous.

I heaved a sigh. With how slowly I was moving this morning, I figured I needed to start my walk to school now. I emerged from the bathroom reluctantly to find Christopher standing in the hallway outside of the door.

"Richie, don't go," he said, and I was surprised to hear that his voice was wobbly and uneven. "You're too bent out of shape, man."

"I have to go," I said, pushing past him to grab my backpack from our room.

"Why?" he demanded, following me.

"For Christ's sake, Christopher, mind your own goddamn business," I growled as I slung the bag over my shoulder.

Chris put his hands up in defeat. "Fine, Rich. Do whatever the hell you want. See what I care." He slammed the door shut after me as I exited the room.

Well this day was off to a fucking swell start.

* * *

"Mr. Chambers." Bates was standing over my desk, his arms folded.

_God, no_. I thought to myself. I hadn't been paying attention at all in class today. I could barely keep my head up and my side was still throbbing in pain from the belting I'd endured the night before. The whole day I'd been close to dissolving into tears, and if Mr. Bates gave me any trouble, I might do just that.

"Why aren't you doing your work?" he asked, his voice firm.

I nervously looked around the room. The rest of the class was working on practice problems that Bates had put up on the board. I hadn't even realized. I swallowed hard. "I-I…" But I couldn't put together a complete sentence, and even if I could, I had no idea what I would say.

Bates squatted down in front of me. "I want you to do go have a seat outside in the hall for the remainder of class," he said sternly. "Take your things."

I groaned inwardly as I glanced up at the clock. There were only five more minutes left of class. I had made it through all of my other classes. Why couldn't he have just left me alone for five more minutes? I reluctantly picked up my book bag and walked across the room and out to the hall, well aware that the entire class's eyes were on me. I closed the door behind me and practically collapsed onto the bench outside of the classroom.

I wrapped my arm around my middle in an attempt to get my side to stop aching. I leaned my head back against the wall and closed my eyes.

The bell rang and the students emptied out of the classroom, and after a while, the halls. I remained on the bench, anticipating the wrath of Mr. Bates.

"Rich?" I opened my eyes several moments later to find Lachance standing at the doorway, his head tilted in my direction. "Are you okay? What are you doing out here?"

"Bates told me to wait out here," I answered hoarsely.

Denny started to say something else, but he was interrupted by Bates calling him into the classroom. "I'll be right back," he told me.

_Take your time_, I thought.

When Denny returned I thought he'd be accompanied by Mr. Bates, but he wasn't. He took a seat next to me. "Hey, man," he said, his voice careful. "Bates asked me to drive you home. He said you ain't well, so he's giving you a pass on tutoring today."

I met his eyes, awestruck. "Really?" I asked. And to think I thought he was going to explode on me…

Denny nodded. "Turns out he _does_ have a soul," he said shrugging. "Who knew?"

"Not me," I mumbled.

Denny was looking me over carefully when his gaze fell on my hand that was clutching my side. "What happened there?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" I asked through gritted teeth.

"You're bleedin'." Denny pointed at my abdomen. I looked down, and sure enough, blood had started to seep through the side of my T-shirt. Before I could stop him, Denny had pushed my arm aside and he lifted up shirt.

"Don't do that," I snapped, trying to pull it back down, but it was too late. He had seen.

Denny let the shirt fall and his hand flew up to cover his mouth. "Jesus Christ, Chambers!" he exclaimed and I told him to shut the fuck up. He lowered his voice. "Did your old man do that to you?" he asked.

I shrugged. "It ain't a big deal."

"Not a big deal?" Denny hissed. "Rich, just look at yourself."

I bit down on my lip and much to my dismay, tears started dripping down my face. "Shit," I breathed, wiping them away with the back of my hand.

I felt Denny put his hand on my shoulder. "C'mon," he said, his voice gentler now. "Let's get out of here."

* * *

Denny knew better than to take me home. As far as I was concerned, I was never going back there again. Or at least, that's what I always tell myself after Pop goes wild like that. But the truth of the matter is, I always end up going back to make sure Ma and, especially, Chris are okay. He's my brother and I care about him, even if I don't ever bother to show it.

Anyway, in the car, Denny asked if he should take me to Ace's, but I told him no. I couldn't face Ace right now. I didn't even know if he would be home, but I wasn't taking any chances. I really was a coward.

"Then where should I take you?" Denny asked.

"Far away from here," I deadpanned. I was being sarcastic, but he seemed to take it to heart.

I'm not really sure where Denny ended up taking me because I fell asleep, but I know it was out of city limits. We ended up on this winding dirt road surrounded by trees that led up a steep hill. "Where the fuck are we going?" I mumbled, keeping my eyes closed so I wouldn't hurl.

"You'll see," Denny said simply.

I felt like we drove for ages, but finally we came to a halt. Denny cut the engine and shook my shoulder. "Take a look," he said.

I opened my eyes to find us on top of the hill staring out into the valley below through a clearing in the trees. It was a gorgeous sight to take in all at once. Everything was starting to turn green, buds were starting to bloom, the sun was shining through the clouds. I could see tiny rooftops and streets far in the distance.

"Whoa," I breathed. "You can see the whole town from here."

"Pretty cool, right?" Denny asked, grinning at me.

"Yeah," I said shrugging. "But why are we here?"

Denny sighed. "I wanted to take you somewhere far enough away that you couldn't get back on your own."

I frowned at him. "Why?"

"So I can kill you and grind your bones for bread," he answered with a straight face.

I rolled my eyes.

"I'm only kidding," he said, chuckling softly to himself. "I just want you to talk to me. And considering I'm the only one who knows how to get back from here, and I'm not leaving until you talk… you sort of don't have a choice."

I just gaped at him. That sly, sly bastard.


	8. Chapter 8

"So you kidnapped me." I was glaring out the window, my arms folded across my chest.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"What if I don't feel like talkin'?" I asked stubbornly. What the hell was I supposed to talk about anyway?

Denny sighed. "C'mon, Rich, I'm not asking for much here," he said. "We're going to spend a lot of time together these next couple of weeks. Might do us some good to get to know each other."

I could feel a lump forming in my throat as I continued to stare out the window. "Trust me, Lachance, you don't want to know me. I ain't worth knowin'."

"How about you leave that up to me to decide?" Denny said softly, without missing a beat. "What do you say?"

I turned my head to face him, studying his face carefully. I was trying to figure out any ulterior motives he might have. Why the hell would someone like him want to try and get to know someone like me?

Fine," I gave in grudgingly. Might as well get this over with. "What do you want to know?"

"I don't know, man. Start with basics. What do you like to do?"

I hesitated. "I like to fish, I guess," I answered. "And I play pool a lot." This was so stupid.

"You any good?" Denny asked.

I shrugged. "I don't lose much."

"We should play sometime," Denny said, and I immediately thought: _Not a chance_. "You'd probably skunk me though," he went on. "I barely know how to play. But I hear billiards is a big thing in college, so maybe I ought to learn. You ever play poker? I hear that's big too."

I nodded. "Yeah. Me an' the guys play poker every weekend, just about."

"For money?"

"Nah. Usually just for cigarettes."

"You hang around with Ace Merrill, don't you?" Denny asked. "And Billy Tessio and Charlie Hogan?"

"Yeah, and a couple other guys."

"What's Merrill like?" Denny asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Is he nice? A good guy?"

"Far from it," I answered. "But he's my best friend." My best friend that I was currently bailing on to talk to fucking Denny Lachance.

Denny was quiet for a moment, and I was grateful. I didn't like talking about myself. There wasn't much to say.

"What are you going to do after you graduate?" Denny asked after a while.

My stomach dropped and I curled my arms around my middle. "_If _I graduate," I corrected him flatly. I didn't like to think about that. Pop would kill me for sure if I didn't graduate. My side started aching again at just the thought.

"You'll graduate," Denny said confidently.

"Yeah, sure, third time's the charm," I said sarcastically, my voice breaking.

Denny was watching me carefully. "Is it important to you?" he asked. "Graduating?"

"My pop'll kill me if I don't," I answered, much more gruffly this time.

"That wasn't my question," he pointed out. "I asked if it was important to _you_."

I just shrugged. I hadn't really given it much thought. I never really enjoyed school all that much and probably would've dropped out if I wasn't so afraid of my father. On the other hand, it would be nice to finish something I started for a change. To prove to everybody that I could do it…

Denny cleared his throat. "You're your own person, Rich. You should do things for yourself," he told me wisely. "Not for your deadbeat father."

I gaped at him. That last comment was way out of line. It's sort of an unwritten rule that you don't dig on another guy's dad. Especially if you barely know the guy. But I didn't mind too much – I was focusing on the first thing he said.

Denny sighed. "Look, I shouldn't have said that," he said softly, realizing he might've gone too far with the "deadbeat" thing. "It's just… I know you're havin' a hard time. A blind person could see that. And your dad's not helping." He let out a deep breath. "I just think you're too overwhelmed, Rich. You're making yourself sick."

I turned my head away from him so I was looking out the window. Didn't he get that it wasn't that easy? I couldn't just _stop_ being overwhelmed. Tears started to roll down my face again. I swear I'd cried more today than I had in the past five years combined. _What the hell is wrong with me?_

"Will you take me back into town now?" I croaked, not even bothering to wipe away my tears. That was enough "talking" for one day. Besides, I figured nothing could be harder than getting through the humiliation I was experiencing right now. Not even facing Ace.

Denny sighed and put his keys back into the ignition. "Sure," he said softly. He swallowed hard and turned the car around. Then we headed back down the hill. In complete silence.

I think Denny thought I was mad at him. But the truth was, I wasn't. He was the first person to ever separate me from my father. I'd spent my entire life thinking I was going to end up like him: a washed out drunk with a family who hates me. I always just _assumed_ I was going nowhere. After all, my older brother Dave certainly hadn't broken the curse. He ran away when he was seventeen and last I heard he was serving time in jail for sexual assault charges. Just carrying on the fucking proud family name…

Seriously, though, that's how I thought of myself: I was a Chambers kid, so I was worth shit. And I was convinced that every other person in town believed that too. Denny had just proven otherwise, and that gave me a shred of hope. _You're your own person_. His words echoed in my head the entire way back.

When we got back to town, Denny dared to speak, just to ask me where to drop me off. I told him to go to Ace's.

He pulled up to Ace's place and I got out of the car slowly, still achy from being belted and ill. I closed the door after me and started to head up to the porch, when I decided to turn back.

I tapped on the window of the car door. "Hey, Lachance," I said.

Denny reached across the passenger seat to roll down the window.

I hesitated. "Thanks," I said finally, meeting his eyes nervously. Words of gratitude were ones I wasn't used to saying. I rarely ever had a reason to utter them.

I saw a wave of relief wash over Denny's face. "Don't mention it man," he said, giving me a nervous smile. "Take it easy, alright? I'll see you Friday."

"Friday," I confirmed. Then I turned back to face Ace's house and Denny drove away.

Before I turned the knob to the front door, I let out a deep breath, praying, for both Ace's sake and mine, that he was there and had some good news about his grandmother. But there was a sinking feeling in my gut that told me something was wrong. And most of the time, my gut was right.


	9. Chapter 9

I was surprised when I stepped into Ace's house to find that all the beer bottles had been cleaned up and his place actually smelled clean for a change. There were grocery bags sitting on top of the wobbly kitchen table. The back door to the kitchen was wide open.

"Ace, you here?" I called out, taking a peek in the bags as I approached the back door. There was nothing but fresh vegetables and fruit and pasta and other healthy foods. There was no way that it was Ace who went shopping.

Peering out the door, I saw that a station wagon was parked in front of Ace's shed. A woman, with beautiful, dark brown hair in a bouffant style, was unloading some more grocery bags from the trunk. She was wearing a light yellow dress that accentuated her body in a modest way.

"Who are you?" I asked, folding my arms across my chest while leaning in the doorway.

The woman turned around and I decided she must be in her late thirties or early forties. I think I must have startled her, because she almost dropped the bags she was holding. "I'm Dottie Brower," she said, a big grin on her face. She closed the trunk of her station wagon with her foot and bustled back up to the house. "You must be one of Ace's friends."

She slid past me and put the grocery bags on the table with the others.

"Yeah. So uh… what are you doing?" I asked her as she started unloading the bags.

"Well, I went down to the hospital this morning to visit Florence, Ace's grandmother. You see, I'm the chef at her nursing home and I've become quite fond of that little lady. But she's not doing too well and so I wasn't allowed to go in to see her."

I nodded. "Family only."

"Right. Anyway, my heart is broken for her grandson. He seems like such a sweet boy and Florence always talks about him with such admiration. He takes good care of her, doesn't he?"

"Yeah," I said, tilting my head at her. "Are you new in town?" She couldn't have lived here long if she believed Ace was a _sweet boy_.

"Fairly," she answered. "My husband's job was relocated about three months ago. So we and our son, Ray, packed up from Texas and made the trek up here." I could tell she had a southern drawl. "Nice little town. Not at all like what we were used to in Houston."

"Were you able to talk to Ace?" I asked her. "At the hospital?"

Dottie stopped putting groceries away and let out a big sigh. "Yes," she said sadly. "He's real upset about his gran and I just wanted to help him out. So I thought I'd come by and tidy his place up a bit. I've been here before to drop off some jam."

My eyes widened. "You're the jam lady?" Ace never had any food in his cupboards, but lately he was _always_ stocked up on blueberry jam. When we asked him about it he just told us he got it from "some broad that knew his grandmother."

Dottie laughed. "That's me." She glanced at her watch. "Listen hon, do you think you could finish putting these groceries away for me? I've gotta get back to work. Old folks eat early, you know."

"Uh yeah, sure," I said. I liked Dottie. She was a fireball of energy, that's for sure. "Uh… thanks," I added, as she grabbed her purse off of the couch.

"Don't you mention it," she said, about to take off the door when she paused. She was staring at my shirt where blood had seeped through and I heard her gasp. "Oh sweetie, what happened to you?"

I immediately felt my cheeks burn red from humiliation. "Nothing," I lied quickly. "I just got into a fight with a kid after school. No big deal."

Dottie sighed but seemed to buy my lie. "I've never understood why men like to fight so much," she said. "But I guess boys will be boys." She then went on to tell me to soak my shirt in cold water to get the stain out. In the five minutes I'd spent with her, she was already more of a mother to me than my mom ever was or will be.

Dottie left after that, asking me to please keep an eye on Ace.

I promised her I would.

* * *

Once the "jam lady" had gone, I finished putting the groceries away, and then I got myself cleaned up. I took another shower, but it didn't feel as good as last time. The streaming water hurt my tender flesh. I squatted down, wrapping my arms around my knees, letting the warm water bounce off of my back. I felt sick and tired and all I wanted to do was curl up in bed.

But I knew I had to go and see Ace. I had to make sure he was okay, even if I was far from being okay myself. I realized that Denny was right. I was too overwhelmed. Life was getting too real too fast.

I turned the shower off and got out, wrapping my towel around me tightly. I emerged from the bathroom to find Charlie Hogan and Billy Tessio sitting on the couch throwing back some beers.

"Hey Eyeball," Billy said, as I made my way to the spare room to change. "You know how this house got so clean? It's fuckin' weird."

"Yeah, it was that broad that brings Ace all that jam," I told him. "She's a babe."

Charlie laughed. "No kidding? Nice." He took a swig of his beer. "What's she doin' wastin' her time cleaning this shithole?"

I realized then that I was probably the only one in the gang that knew about Ace's gran, considering Ace is a goddamn closed book. "Ace's gran is in the hospital," I told them. "That jam lady knows her and she wanted to do somethin' nice for Ace I guess. She called him a 'sweet boy.'"

We all got a kick out of that, but Charlie and Billy's laughter stopped abruptly when they realized how serious this situation could become. "Shit, I knew somethin' was up with Ace when he asked me to go on that deal," Billy said. "How bad is she?"

My stomach shifted uncomfortably. "That's the thing. We don't know," I told him. "They can't figure out what's wrong with her. And she keeps gettin' worse."

"Fuck."

"Yeah," I agreed softly. We all knew that Ace would lose it if something happened to his grandmother. "I'm about to head down there now if you guys want to come."

Charlie and Billy glanced at each other. "Nah," they said, simultaneously.

I let out a huff of air and rolled my eyes. "Fuckin' pussies," I mumbled as I closed the door to the spare room behind me.

I got changed, grabbed Ace's keys, and left.

"Godspeed," Charlie called after me on my way out the door.

I flipped him and Billy the bird over my head and let the screen door slam behind me.

Now, I'm not what you would call a religious man, but the whole way to the hospital you better believe I was praying to every god and spirit out there. _Please let her be okay_, I thought desperately. _Please._


End file.
